The change in Akaso is immediate and dramatic. His eyes grow wide with terror. Grabbing at the gun with both hands, he twists his head in sudden panic, his body bucking wildly in a desperate attempt to throw her off. He tries to scream, but Sunshine jams the gun farther into his mouth and all that comes out is a choking gurgle.
And then she’s squeezing the trigger even as Akaso squirms and twists furiously beneath her. The hammer begins to fall, starting its fateful plunge. It’s all happening in slow motion, as if it will take hours for the hammer to fall, hours to know whether the gun will click harmlessly or if it will explode and discharge its single deadly bolt. And yet the hammer continues its descent, drawing inexorably nearer to its final destination, closer and closer to the point of its deadly decision.
5.3.8: Aqevina
“How much longer?”
“Soon. We are having trouble with one of the loudspeakers. Any moment now.”
Binoculars raised to his eyes, Commander Tanaqo Karnaga continues to scan the house, even as he whispers instructions into his communicator. Even without the aid of magnification, G.W. can clearly see the heavily armed commando teams that have crept up to the house and are now standing, crouching, or lying motionless beside every window.
Let’s see, that’s a couple dozen men on this side, G.W. thinks. So there’s probably about a hundred of them all around the house. And then here in the trees… shit, must be a couple hundred more, with everything from machine guns to hand grenades to rocket launchers. And if I’m not mistaken, I think I saw a tank turret moving through the branches a little while ago.
“Do you think they know we’re here yet?” G.W. whispers.
“I doubt it,” Karnaga whispers back. “There has been very little noise in the house, just occasional conversations here and there. Either there are very few people in the house or most of them are still asleep.”
“How do you know that?”
“We have placed microphones on the walls. Although they will not detect whispers, they are sensitive enough to pick up most normal conversations.”
“Jesus.”
“Listen.” Karnaga whispers a terse order into his communicator and then holds it out to G.W. “The feed from the listening devices is now being routed through the sound truck and into the communicator. You see? There is no noise in the house.”
But just as G.W. leans forward to better experience this technological marvel, there is a sound, a strange pop, like a party favor, or perhaps just a burst of static.
What was that? G.W. starts to say…
But Karnaga has already yanked the communicator back and is scrambling to his feet. “MOVE IN!” he screams, shattering the silence like a thunderclap. “MOVE IN, NOW!”
In the fraction of a second it has taken Karnaga to react, his men have already begun to move. With a series of loud cracks, like the popping of a string of firecrackers, small mounds of explosives that have been stuck to the boarded windows detonate, sending clouds of splinters billowing into the air. A commando races up to the front door, swings what looks like a rocket launcher to his shoulder, and fires. In a burst of flame and a clap of thunder, the door disintegrates.
Climbing to his feet, G.W. watches in horror as the commandos toss what appear to be hand grenades through the shattered windows. Mere seconds later, as a phalanx of troops dashes across the lawn, a series of sharp explosions rips through the house. To G.W.’s relief, the explosions are not followed by splintering walls and flames.
Concussion grenades, he thinks, vaguely.
Designed to stun rather than to injure.
Hopefully.
“STAY HERE!” Karnaga shouts to G.W. over the din. And then he runs frantically off across the field toward the house, leaving G.W. alone with his confusion.
Everything seems to be happening at once. Even as the grenades explode, the commandos are already lobbing canisters into the house, quickly pulling their gas masks over their heads and climbing in through the remains of the windows, their weapons slung over their shoulders or clutched in their hands. Dozens (hundreds?) of men are advancing across the lawn, some slithering through the overgrown grass on their bellies, some walking crab-like in a half-crouch, some sprinting for a few steps, then dropping down to safety. Officers point and shout frantic orders. Soldiers set up their weapons and hurriedly don their gas masks.
The muffed but instantly recognizable sound of automatic-weapons fire comes from within the house. Clouds of smoke billow from the windows in great waves. “Oh, Jesus,” G.W. says out loud. Something is terribly wrong. The house is on fire. Or maybe the commandos are using explosive grenades after all. Or maybe the terrorists have booby-trapped the house and it’s blowing up.
But as the cloud drifts closer, G.W. realizes that it’s not smoke after all. Suddenly, his eyes are on fire and his throat is raw. Gagging and coughing, he sinks to his knees as the tear gas swirls around him. Rising unsteadily to his feet, he desperately tries to effect a stumbling retreat, but he succeeds only in walking face-first into a large tree. He howls and curses in pain and frustration – and then he regrets it immediately, as his words rip at his ragged throat
G.W.’s hands fly to his wounded face. Why didn’t Karnaga give me a fucking gas mask? Everybody else seems to have one.
And then there are firm hands clutching at his arms, and someone is leading him away. He follows blindly, meekly, unresisting, his desire to know what’s going on in the house overwhelmed by the coughing and retching that wracks his body and the terrible burning that claws at his eyes.
But even in his misery, even as his unknown guide leads him to safety through the maze of trees, even in the midst of the confusion that surrounds him, G.W. can only hear the short, staccato bursts of automatic-weapons fire from the house, and he keeps thinking: Please, God, please let her be alright, please don’t let any harm come to her, not when I’m this close, I couldn’t bear it, I just couldn’t bear it, please, God….
5.3.9: Aqevina
At first, Sunshine assumes that they’re shooting at her.
It had actually been much less gruesome than she had imagined it might be. The pistol made a muffled popping sound, more like a cap gun than a real one. Her first thought was that she had failed, that the chamber had been empty. But Akaso’s head had jumped and bounced perhaps an inch off the floor. His body lurched once and then was still. His unseeing eyes froze. Blood began to ooze from the back of his head, slowly coating the carpet with a sticky red mass.
Now, behind her, the door crashes open. The guard! And I’m sitting here on top of Akaso sticking a gun in his mouth and blood is pouring out of his head! Why didn’t I drop the gun? Maybe I could have convinced them that Akaso did it himself. But now…
Shutting her eyes tightly, she tenses for the bullets that she knows will rip into her and tear her apart.
When she hears the shots, they’re much louder than she expects, not like the pop of her little pistol. They seem distant somehow, as if shots are being fired way off in a far part of the house. But still she waits for the rain of death that she knows will come.
And then the boards that cover the window explode in a shower of splinters. Something is flying in – a round, flat object, like an oversized hockey puck. And then there’s the most terrible BOOM, it’s deafening, and she covers her ears, still waiting for the bullets to hit…
And finally the realization hits her: They’re not shooting at me! Something is going on, but they’re not shooting at me! I’m still alive!
And now something else is spinning in through the window, it’s hissing and trailing a stream of smoke…
…and is somebody climbing in through the window? It’s so hard to see, so hard to think. What’s going on?
…and then a cloud envelops her, and she collapses in a paroxysm of coughing and retching, her eyes on fire…
…and then strong hands are grabbing at her arms, lifting her up, slipping something over her head, carrying her away…
5.
3.10: Aqevina
Her reverie shattered, Jillian sits up straight in the bed. There was an incredibly loud noise, and now people are running down the hall in front of her room, shouting, and it’s all so loud. She cocks her head to the side, like a curious dog, and listens…
BOOM! There’s an explosion at the window. It’s so loud! She covers her ears. STOP IT! she screams. STOP IT! And then there’s another massive blast, this one knocks her flat on the bed, her head ringing. She reaches for a pillow, presses it over her head, covers her eyes and ears, and desperately tries to block out the world. But the noise seems to be coming from inside her head, it’s impossibly loud, it’s echoing wildly through her brain, it’s mocking her feeble attempts to stifle it…
When someone yanks the pillow off her head, she screams and frantically digs her face into the bed, as if she’s trying to burrow into it. She struggles as someone tries to slip something over her head, her arms and legs flailing wildly. For a minute, she thinks she’s back in the filthy old woman’s filthy little house, and the terrorists are trying to subdue her, pressing that wretched rag to her face…
She’s dimly aware that someone is speaking to her, more than one someone in fact, but their voices are far away and they barely drift through the fog that fills her brain. And they’re speaking in some foreign language, anyway, so she can’t understand even the words that she does hear. Their voices are soothing, like they’re trying to calm her down, but she knows it’s a trick, she knows they’re Bad Men, she knows they’re Out To Get Her, she knows that everyone is Out To Get Her, everyone, no one is to be trusted, no place is safe…
5.3.11: Aqevina
“Karnaga! God damn it, I’ve been looking for you all over the place!”
“Not now, Mr. Kendal.”
But as Karnaga turns to walk away, G.W. clutches desperately at his arm. “What about the girls, Karnaga,” he demands hoarsely, his throat burning with every word. “I can barely see anything because of the goddamn tear gas, and I can’t get any of your people to tell me a goddamn thing. Are the girls okay? Are they out of the house? Were they even in the goddamn house? Talk to me, God damn it!”
Karnaga stares pointedly at G.W.’s grip on his arm. With a reluctant sigh, G.W. releases him. “Please,” he begs. “Tell me what’s going on.”
“I believe the girls may be in the medical area, which is where I am going now. Follow me.”
“I just came from the goddamn medical area!” G.W. has to trot to keep up with Karnaga, who sets a furious pace as he seems to make his own path through the trees. “They don’t know a goddamn thing. Doesn’t anybody know what’s going on around here?”
But Karnaga is shouting orders, pointing, giving instructions, engaging in hurried conversations with various subordinates who run up to him, match his pace as they exchange a few words, then run off to execute his commands.
“Nobody knows a goddamn thing,” G.W. mutters as he tags along behind the commander. “Not a goddamn, fucking thing.” Both of his eyes are badly swollen. His right eye is nearly shut, and the vision through his left eye is blurred. He keeps dabbing at them with the damp cloth that a nurse gave him, but they burn like hot coals, and they don’t seem to be getting any better.
When they break into the small clearing that’s being used as a medical area, G.W. is surprised by how much the activity has increased in the few minutes since he left. Where there had been only a single ambulance, half a dozen vehicles are now clustered at the far side of the clearing. Stretchers litter the ground and continue to be carried into the area, some bearing soldiers, others bearing men and women in civilian clothes. Some of the wounded are being loaded directly into ambulances and driven off. Some are being treated where they lie, doctors and nurses kneeling at their sides. Some, lying lifelessly on the ground, eyes staring blankly at the sky, are largely being ignored.
Jesus Christ, G.W. swears, under his breath. It looks like the goddamn Battle of Atlanta.
“Mr. Kendal?”
G.W. spins around. Who’s calling me? My God, that sounds like… There! Over there, sitting by that tree, that unmistakable red hair…
“Sunshine!” He runs to her, and he half expects her to push away the nurse who’s attending to her and to struggle to her feet, but Sunshine just sits where she is, starting up at him through eyes that seem to be a little on the fuzzy side.
“Jesus Christ, Sunshine, are you alright?”
“I’m okay, Mr. Kendal,” she says, wearily. “I got some tear gas in my eyes. But other than that I’m okay.”
“What about Jill? Have you seen Jill?”
Sunshine stares up at him blankly. “Not recently,” she says.
“Did they keep you separated? My God, was she even in the same house?” G.W. feels an icy stab of panic: Jillian is being held somewhere else, the kidnappers will find out about this raid and they’ll hurt her or they’ll kill her or…
“She’s in the house,” Sunshine says, flatly, as if it were of only nominal interest. “She was in another room. I mean, we were both in the same room, but then they took me into another room, and I haven’t…” Her voice trails off.
“Did they…” G.W. stops, swallows hard, then tries again. “Why did they separate you? Did they hurt you?” Softer. “Did they hurt Jill?”
Sunshine shakes her head ever so slightly. “She was taking it pretty hard, Mr. Kendal, but I don’t think…”
“It’s G.W., please.”
“G.W.” Emotionless. “I don’t think they hurt her. They wanted to… Akaso wanted her, but I went instead, and they probably left her alone after that.”
“Wanted her? What…”
“You know. He wanted to… you know.”
At first, G.W. doesn’t know – or, perhaps, he doesn’t want to know. He blinks several times. Then he gets it. “Why that… that goddamn son of a bitch. That… that…” And then the rest of Sunshine’s speech hits him. “You went instead? You mean, you took Jill’s place?”
“Yeah. Jill was pretty shaken up, Mr. Ken… G.W. I didn’t think she could handle it. I figured it was no big deal.”
And then Sunshine does brush away the nurse who’s been rinsing her face, and she looks at G.W. – who, by this time, is on his knees in front of her, the better to hear her small voice – and for the first time, there’s just the tiniest spark of life in her eyes.
“I was wrong,” she says, with a tremor in her voice. “It was a big deal. It was awful. It was the worst thing that ever happened to me in my whole life.” She shudders and closes her eyes. When she re-opens them, they’re flat and dead, the small, brief spark has died.
“That was a very brave thing you did,” G.W. says. He hears his own voice quaking ever so slightly. “Jill owes you a great deal. We all do. If there’s any way I can make it up to you, anything I can do for you, anything at all, ever…”
And then Sunshine says something, but it’s too soft for G.W. to hear, and he has to lean closer and ask her to repeat it. Sunshine just stares back at him, and for a minute G.W. thinks that she might have slipped into shock. He’s just about to yell for a doctor when Sunshine speaks again…
“I wish it was her.”
“I beg your pardon?”
She stares back at him, her eyes as hard as stone. “I wish they had taken her instead of me. I’m sorry, but that’s just the way I feel. If I had known what it was going to be like, I would have just let them take her.”
G.W. blinks hard, several times. “Sunshine,” he starts, then he stops. He licks his lips. “Sunshine, look,” he tries again. “I know what you must be going through. Or maybe that’s a ridiculous thing to say, I don’t know. But I just want you to know that however you feel right now, and no matter what you say, I still think that was an incredibly brave thing that you did, something that I’ll remember for the rest of my life. And so will Jill. I mean that, with all my heart.”
“He raped me.” Sunshine speaks matter-of-factly.
G.W. groans. “Have yo
u gotten any medical attention? I mean, besides the lady rinsing your eyes out? Did you tell anybody that you were… that you were, you know…”
“He stuck the gun into me. He stuck the gun between my legs and up inside me.” She speaks with just the slightest sense of wonder, as if the story she’s relating is vaguely curious. “He pulled the trigger. With the gun inside me. But it didn’t go off.”
“Jesus Christ.” G.W. closes his eyes. That could have been Jill, he thinks. God help me, I should feel outraged that it happened to Sunshine, but mostly I feel relieved that it didn’t happen to Jill. “If I ever get my hands on that son of a bitch,” G.W. whispers, “I’ll kill him. I swear to God, I’ll kill him.”
“I already did.”
“You already… did what?”
“I already killed him. You don’t have to kill him. I already did.”
“Jesus Christ,” G.W. says again, for the second time in about ten seconds. And then again: “Jesus Christ.”
“I see that you two have found each other.”
G.W. looks up. Karnaga is staring down at him, his pleased expression suggesting that he might have good news. Suddenly G.W. realizes that he hasn’t heard even a single shot for a few minutes. Is it over? Is that why Karnaga looks so pleased with himself?
“Where’s Jill?” G.W. rises to his feet. “Did they find Jill yet? Is she alright?”
“Yes, Mr. Kendal, they have found your daughter. She seems to be alright. They are treating her in the house, but she will be out in a moment, I am told.”
“Treating her? Treating her for what? Where is she?”
“They are treating her for a mild case of shock, no more. It is to be expected in a situation like this, I assure you. She is uninjured. She did not even encounter any tear gas, as it happens the canister they threw into her room was defective, and they were able to place a gas mask over her face before the gas from the rest of the house seeped into the room. She is a very fortunate young lady.”
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